


A Master's Punishment

by Hancockles



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, M/M, Master/Servant, Punishment, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hancockles/pseuds/Hancockles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the patient Logarius has a breaking point. Alfred finds out exactly where that point is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Master's Punishment

Logarius tuts at the executioner standing before him in his chambers. In his hand is his most trusted implement of punishment: an old switch. For the third time in a week he must work it against Alfred, make him try to see the error of his ways.

“You’re much too old for this- this sort of nonsense,” Logarius says, pacing, his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. I’ve taught you this lesson-” he waves the switch in Alfred’s direction, “-more times than I can count. Why do you continue to misbehave?”

Met with Alfred’s silence, he goes on: “Alfred, you are such a talented pupil of mine. I worry about these… oversights of yours. You make me worry. Such worry.”

“I am restless, master,” Alfred says, speaking carefully. “You spend less time with me. I wonder why that is?”

“I have other pupils to attend to. You know that. Each must be shaped with a knowing hand.”

“I wish to spend more time with you,” says Alfred, and he leads his eyes down from Logarius’ face to his toes, then back up, smile coy and practiced. Subtle, the tilt of his head, the tongue darting out briefly to wet his lips. Logarius hadn’t noticed that particular trick before.

But he had noticed his protege’s tendency to find trouble (nothing serious, petty infractions that required nothing more drastic than the whip), the suggestive wandering of his eyes, that gentle – girlish, even – crossing of his legs when he knows his master is looking, the showing off of legs shaped by years of physical practice. Though he is a holy man, Logarius is not infallible, and he comes to despise the catch in his breath. At the basest level, yes, he is only a man – but a lump in his throat! Over one of his own boys! Unthinkable, disgraceful, but reality all the same.

He grew agitated with feeling so tarnished, so filthy, so unholy with these thoughts that he began to avoid Alfred. No more private lessons together, pouring over books with barely an inch between their bodies. No more walks with conversations meandering as their feet did down the path, to the lakeside, no more of Alfred looking at him with those bright and curious eyes. It had been successful, for a time. And now this. Avoid the boy and he flings himself out in every direction, causes trouble, demands he be noticed.

As though he senses Logarius’ thoughts, Alfred moves forward and catches his master’s hand in his own, the hand holding the switch. Green eyes look upward. Logarius wants nothing more than to avert them, lest he be charmed, but needing to hold a position of authority wins out. His eye contact is steady and unyielding, and so is Alfred’s.

“You have changed me,” Alfred says, hand sliding upward, grasping at the fabric of his master’s robe. “Because of you I am different. These things I’ve never felt before, strange emotions, I feel them.”

At these words, Logarius appears to soften.

“Yes, your purpose is holy,” Logarius says. His voice is gentle, understanding. A natural progression of things, he thinks. Nothing to be concerned with. In his time, each young executioners should hear godly whispers, feel the hands of fate against their backs. Such was their calling, their task.

“Not that,” Alfred says quickly. “No. Emotions, unheeded. When I look at you I feel a, a stirring-”

Logarius lays a hand on Alfred’s, pulls it from its grip. He moves to his chair, by the fire, a tall and worn out thing, and sits. His eyes watch the flames, then turn to Alfred.

“I see what it is,” he said.

A moment of silence from both of them.

Logarius begins again, tongue feeling thick in his mouth: “This kind of sexual deviancy must be punished, you know.”

For once, Alfred has nothing to say and only stands staring. Logarius motions for him to come closer, but he does not.

“Come,” Logarius says. “Alfred, come here.”

Alfred’s first tentative step forward is not quick enough, and Logarius brings the switch down against the arm of the chair with a loud crack.

“Now!” he bellows, and it sends Alfred racing to his side. With Logarius sitting, the two men are almost eye to eye. He sets his hand under Alfred’s chin, examines him.

“I have tried so hard with you,” Logarius says. “And I have tried, myself, to-”

Words fail him. Though he molded the boy, Logarius curses him now. Too clever, too beautiful, too attentive to his old master. Too made up in his own image! Truly, Logarius was too old for these games. Those green jewels of eyes, Logarius knows them well enough to recognize the look they’re giving him. Alfred knows he’s won, but he’s not sure what it is that he’s won. A small smile follows, just the corners of the mouth upturned, and it sends Logarius over the edge. He grabs the back of Alfred’s shirt, just a fistful – though that is more than enough – and lifts him up, over the arm’s chair, onto his lap. Alfred cries out in surprise, limbs jerking, reaching for something to steady him.

“Master-” he says, panicked, and that’s when Logarius swats him. A quick, soundless lash with the switch, delivered to the boy’s ass. Alfred bites his tongue.

“Imagine!” Logarius says, almost gleeful. “Imagine what that’ll feel like once I bring your pants down, hm?”

Being brought over his master’s knee was not such an unfamiliar event as to confuse him, and Alfred quickly positions himself more comfortably, save for his stinging behind. He turns his head, looks to his master, waiting for his next move. Now, he dares not move a muscle. Logarius passes the tip of the switch across Alfred’s mouth.

“No smart words this time, I see,” he says.

And he brings the whip down again on Alfred’s ass, sharply, with practiced aim and a steady hand. Alfred hisses through his teeth, digging his fingers into whatever he can. When the pain turns from a sharp sting to a persistent, searing throb, he rests his forehead on his master’s leg.

“Master, please,” he says. There is a hint of desperation in his voice.

And Logarius figures out the reason this punishment hasn’t worked before. Against his leg he feels Alfred’s heat, growing steadily. Before he can sort through his emotions, he feels flattered. He sets the switch down against the side of the chair. He lays a spindly hand over Alfred’s ass and rubs it, as though to lessen the hurt. Again Alfred turns, pulse visibly throbbing in his throat, and eyes his master.

“Master, you understand? My feelings,” he says.

“No, Alfred. I think only to set you on the right course. I will not stand for this.”

He jerks Alfred’s pants down in a swift motion, runs a finger along the tender red welts he created. To think! His trusted protege! His favorite! The desire Logarius thought he read on the boy’s face all those times before– it was all real. The longer the silence lasted between them, the harder Alfred becomes. Logarius could see, in the light of the fire, that the boy’s cheeks were flushing. It struck him that perhaps under these circumstances an indiscretion was forgivable. Yes, he had made Alfred the man he was today. Could he not also undo him?

“Alfred,” he says sharply, bringing him to attention. “Up off me, now.”

Alfred hesitates, then clambers off his master, moving slowly wincing at the keen pain of his punishment.

“Pants off,” Logarius says. It was a casual command, as though they were practicing their holy training together, nothing more. Alfred steps out of his trousers, kicking them away, and stands with as much dignity as he can. His erection seems more obvious in the fire light, and he moves his hands over it. Logarius laughs.

“No underthings!” he says, delighted. “Alfred! Have you always been so naughty?”

Alfred, suddenly serious, whispers: “Yes, master.”

Logarius eyes him, then pats his own lap, waits for Alfred to sit and reposition himself, waits for him to stop cursing under his breath when his skin touches fabric.

“That pain will pass,” Logarius says, setting a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, pushing him forward, shaping his pose. Alfred brings himself to kneel across his master’s lap again, his hands holding into the chair’s arm. The chair, specially made for Logarius, undeniably larger than most pieces of furniture, feels much too large for Alfred. His knees rest on his master’s legs, feet comfortably on the chair’s other arm. Logarius brings his mouth to Alfred’s ear.

“We must try more drastic methods, I’m afraid.”

Alfred’s body tenses. He is hot, and trembling, and, above all, obedient. Logarius counts on this as he runs a finger along the executioner’s cock. Alfred moans, throws his eyes skyward, looks back to his master, astonished.

“Master-” he says, breathlessly, but Logarius silences him.

“Don’t ruin this with your talking,” he says. Then, quieter, “I’ll make my finger slick, but you’ll have to bear it.”

From the corner of his eye, Alfred sees Logarius rub something on his finger; a viscous, shining liquid. He thinks not on where his master retrieved it, nor does he have time. Logarius, being careful not to touch his index finger to anything, grabs a cheek of Alfred’s ass, squeezes.

The next part makes Alfred cry out, bring his hand up to bite his knuckle. Logarius carefully teases Alfred’s opening, circling with his finger before pushing it in, slowly, gently. But there isn’t as much resistance as he was expecting.

“Not the first time, hm?” Logarius says. By way of answering, Alfred releases a contented moan. Deep inside him, he feels a pinch, and a warmth that radiates through his belly and thighs. His skin prickles at the shifting of his shirt’s fabric, at the breeze from the window. Logarius finds the spot he’s looking for, works it in slow circles.

Alfred feels full, and this feeling grows as his master continues to tease, until he feels as though he’s going to burst. A slow trickle of fluid drips from the tip of his penis. With his free hand, Logarius grab’s Alfred’s cock and works that, as well.

Perhaps for the first time, Logarius is aware of his control over the man. He feels sick with it, thinks of terrible things he’d like to do to that young, soft body. It works him into a frenzy, but he thinks, no, now is not the right time, you must concentrate on the task at hand. He moves his finger in deeper, slower circles, inciting exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.

Alfred yelps, muscles spasming as he releases his seed in a long, powerful stream. The chair, Logarius’ hand, Alfred’s own thighs – more ground is covered with each twitch of his cock. And the pleasure seems to go on forever, coming in waves, making his muscles tremble and his mouth gape. Even after he is finished, Alfred stays locked in that position, waiting for his wits to come back to him.

Logarius, seeming also to be satisfied, removes his finger, his hand, and leans back, suddenly looking weary. He strokes his protege’s cheek with the back of his hand, fingering a lock of golden hair.

“Hopefully you have learned your lesson, now,” he says, almost in a whisper.

“Yes,” Alfred says. He’s still coming back to reality, only just beginning to feel embarrassed. His cheeks redden, and he clambers off his master’s lap, just as clumsy as before, gathering up his trousers with a surprising quickness.

“Master, I should be going, I shan’t trouble you any longer tonight-” His head is bowed in some kind of respectful gesture, but Logarius rises and sets a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. When he hooks a finger under the boy’s chin and lifts it, Logarius sees the careful smile playing across his lips. He returns it, and leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. Alfred breaks away, moves toward the door. Logarius retrieves the switch from the chair’s side, meaning to return it to its rightful place. The two look to each other, and an understanding passes between them.

“Best hurry along to your chambers. Wouldn’t want anyone to see that unsightly stain,” Logarius says. Alfred lowers his head in respect, hurries away. Logarius studies the switch in his hand and then, thinking it couldn’t possibly do a job better than tonight’s, throws it into the fire.


End file.
